One Year
by Kristen999
Summary: It wasn't exactly an anniversary worth celebrating. It was a day to find something deeper. Warrick and Nick Friendship


Title: One Year (1/1)  
Author: Kristen999  
Spoilers: "Grave Danger"  
Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all their fine writers. Please  
don't sue. This is just for fun.  
Summary: It wasn't exactly an anniversary worth celebrating. It was a day to  
find something deeper. Warrick and Nick Friendship  
Notes: May 19th, People. Like I could ignore that date.

A/N- Okay so this website has been all sorts of funky. Some people say they can't find this one shot others say its there. I tried uploading an author's note, that now doesn't show up. So big sorry for any issues this causes, seems is undergoing thier normal schedule of mess ups. Its still a one shot.

* * *

It was going to be tough, not at all unexpected. No matter how much it was ignored, or how normal everyday routines moved along like well-oiled machinery. Nothing could keep that little twinge in the pit of his stomach from twisting slightly when April got ripped away and May's month loomed over the calendar. Then it became inescapable. 

The words vacation had been written over his desk calendar, date book at home, and files turned in about three months ago. Nice long weekend. Tina knew, didn't mouth a word of protest, even if they had not gone on any kind of getaway since their marriage, not even a real honeymoon. Time had been made for this, arrangements, and what had been weeks away, now plagued him like a late bill or overdue marker.

Warrick had expected Nick to be more withdrawn or moody. It wasn't like he hadn't prepared for any of it. Just be there. That's all he told himself, available for beer, basketball, small talk. No pushing, no weird looks. Just a presence, comforting or as whatever manifestation was needed. All that mattered was to be ready for anything.

When Warrick Brown found himself in the middle of a very familiar nursery, surrounded by rows of orchard trees and mounds of the same kind of impossible to distinguish dirt, well, that wasn't exactly on the itinerary. Neither was watching his best friend walk around to find his missing grave.

He scanned the ground beneath him, heart in his fucking throat, muscles rigid, voice drowned out by his screaming thoughts. Stuff like: Get him the Hell out of here. Go and talk to him, drag him away, scream, yell, cry. Do something!

No, then he'd break his promise to Nick and to himself. This was his night.

Though it wasn't Nick's alone.

Almost an hour surrounded by the ground that had taunted and mocked him in nightmares. Every freakin' inch of dirt ingrained in his memory, images of digging with his bare hands until his fingers bled to find nothing but more loose soil. No box, no hope. Just clumps and clumps of decayed earth, the sound of his watch ticking away along with his best friend's air.

Then he'd wake up, just to dream it all over again the following day.

He never wanted to come back to his place.

Nick wandered aimlessly lost, like a war veteran trying to find the spot on the battlefield. In some ways, this was his war, his monument, no matter how tragic.

The walking wounded. Weren't they all?

Both of them were here together, but not really in the same plane.

Warrick's arms ached with the phantoms of a heavy shovel, the eyes of every police officer, rescue worker, crime lab person, intent at the same spot on the ground.

Nick was lost in a haze of pain, suffocation, and temptation. His own Glock taunting him, mind lost, needy, a will depleted. Hallucinations and hopelessness his only companionship.

The Texan stopped, eyes glued to the ground; there was a lack of vegetation, the soil still tainted. Possibly the explosion had ruined the earth, or it could just be imagination. Warrick felt his chest ache as Nick stood there, staring, his soul lost in the dust that still scattered with a small gust of wind.

Enough of this.

Warrick's long strides had him there in seconds. Nick didn't acknowledge him, shoulders slumped, eyes closed. Nothing but the occasional insect chirp. Damn noises made him jumpy, yet he had no reason to be as affected by it as the man near him.

"Nick?" His voice was hushed, cracked.

It was hard to see his eyes, gone flat and glassy, but that voice. It was eerily steady, neutral.

"Ever wonder what would have happened if you had uncovered the wrong end?"

Did he expect him to answer that? Seconds away from witnessing an irony so cruel, he would have turned in his badge the next day.

He found his voice somehow. "No."

Nick looked at him, his eyes calling him a liar, knowing that he had as many nightmares about "what if"s as Nicky certainly had.

"I counted, ya know. Waited 'til I reached three." Nick's voice cut him to his core.

He was silent, not at all how things were supposed to go. This wasn't the plan. Three days off.

Now brown eyes locked with green ones, so open, unfocused, and lost. Unlike the confident CSI that had been all in charge, with easy unforced smiles for the past couple of months. "It... it was almost too heavy to lift."

Nick crouched down; hand hesitatingly hovered over the soil, then brushed over the gravel, fingers digging into the brown crust.

"I never cared about my nails back then. Now... I pay forty bucks a month, ya know." Nick laughed so hollowly staring at perfect cuticles.

Warrick swallowed. No, he didn't.

Nick scanned the area, eyes darting to and fro. "Humph. Not a single one."

Warrick knew what he meant. He hadn't seen a single ant hill since they entered this ugly reminder. "Not common in Nevada," his voice trailed off. It has been the key.

It tore at his soul, shredded him to bits, as Nick knelt there, head bowed to the ground, breathing in dirt again.

"I thought your surprise was going to be a bit more..." he licked his lips. "Cheery."

Nick worked his jaw back and forth, taking in and releasing a deep cleansing breath. He stood up, scanning the night, and dusted his hands of on his jeans. "You're right. Sometimes though, you need to get perspective."

His partner looked at Nick, stripped of armor, completely honest and voice naked of its typical forced cheeriness. Warrick nodded, knowing how trusting Nick was being with him.

"I wanted to come back to this place tonight because I walked away from here a different person. Part of me was left down there." Nick looked at him, wetting his bottom lip. "I came away changed forever. But the one thing I learned was to appreciate things more." He laughed now, eyes averted. "To stop and smell the roses, enjoy every moment."

"Yeah, Man. I do," Warrick answered, awed at the spontaneous change in mood.

Nick smiled, not one of his Texas charmers, but a genuine grin. "You got to look at your past in the eye and face it, before you say goodbye."

"Is that what we're doing here?"

Nick stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Yep. I'm letting go, Rick."

Warrick began to understand. "Now what?"

Nick turned around, the would-be gravesite behind him. "No looking back. Now, I'm gonna show you what it means to truly be alive."

Warrick smirked. "I'm already married, Nick. You got something else on your mind?"

The Texan nodded back at the trail towards his SUV. "What do you think I packed for?'

"I dunno, was wondrin' that myself. Didn't know if we were going to play Eagle Scouts or somethin'."

Nick grinned for real. "Nah, it's a heck lot better than that."

With that Nick started walking, leaving behind him the nightmare of a year ago. Warrick trailed behind, still clueless as to where they were going, happy it was anywhere but here.

"This ain't another one of your bird hunts, is it Nick?" he joked following him back through the nursery.

Nick didn't turn around but Warrick imagined that shit-eating grin from his tone. "No, we're going to learn what it's like to be one."

* * *

Several words, a couple colorful expressions, and even a random curse word rolled through his head like the reels of a slot machine. Warrick Brown was speechless, puzzled, jaw left gaping. 

Nick had packed the back of his truck full of supplies, but Warrick had dumbly thought maybe they were going camping. His buddy had only told him to pack some comfortable but warm clothes. He stupidly forgot to ask the simple W's at that point. _Why_ and _Where_, and maybe _What the Hell_ were on the tip of his tongue now, while the Boy Scout unloaded pieces of equipment and began assembling them together like it was second nature.

That had been less than a half hour ago. What was being constructed had him standing around like one of those Lookie Lous. Not that it mattered to the man working up a sweat, a good one at that. Nick was whistling for crying out loud, the sun shining in the early morning. Nick Stokes, the POW of hours ago, was vibrant.

Warrick didn't suppress a grin, after recovering from the shock of seeing what his partner had been up to.

"Um, Nick."

His buddy unfolded the nylon wings, making the necessary adjustments since the triangle frame had been assembled.

"Nick," he spoke louder, only to earn a classic 'huh?' expression from his buddy in response.

Warrick shook his head. "Dude, what the Hell are you doing?"

A grin was his response. "Hand me that duffel bag, will ya?"

He didn't suppress a grunt of annoyance but did what was requested. It was Nick's day after all. Even if it was something ripped out of the Twilight Zone.

The part of Nick Stokes will now be played by Jolly Nick Stokes. He looked around to see if there was a clone waiting to replace him.

Twenty minutes later you couldn't wipe away his expression of surprise with an eraser.

"You're gonna teach me how to hang glide?" Warrick joked, his expression incredulity, but Nick just gazed steadily back at him.

It was that same bare raw expression from the nursery. Veracious eyes that hit him right in the solar plexus. That expression of trust, of pure brutal honesty. This was important, this was... it was fucking acknowledgment. Nick was sharing something sacred.

"You've been doing this a couple of years now." It wasn't a question.

Nick opened his mouth, then lost the words; instead he nodded his head as if embarrassed about sharing such a big 'secret'.

"After the paragliding case," Warrick stated, eyes taking in that ease of motion, a man of learned skill.

"Yeah," then a small laugh. "My proficiency rating is only a couple levels from a Master's."

Warrick exhaled, a long passage of air built up deep within, then looked up at a more nervous man, the exposed one, hoping that he'd make the connection. Warrick sauntered over to the back of the open trunk. "Got me a nice spiffy helmet?"

Now returned the megawatt grin. Nick pulled out a box and handed him a pair of gloves, tossed him a heavy windbreaker, and pulled out two pieces of headgear.

"How much has this little adventure set ya back, man?" Warrick asked, impressed by the sheer planning involved.

Nick threw on another button up shirt, and shoved his arms into a form-fitting wind-resistant jacket. "Does it matter?"

Warrick finished suiting up and fished for his sunglasses as Nick put on his. He shook his head. "No, it doesn't."

Warrick's boots crunched in the dirt, small drop-off right before a ridge, his eyes scanning the freedom that awaited. He turned to his friend. "I want to know what it's like to fly."

In the air, they were weightless. What had he been doing the other day? Nothing, nothing at all, because it didn't compare to this. Didn't exist. Not up here.

Fear and control in a tug of war inside his stomach. And why not... 5,000 feet above ground.

Above it.

Warrick looked at Nick, face obscured by safety equipment, but the man beamed redemption. He could taste the wind whipping at his cheeks, see it in the glint of the man's sunglasses, feel it course through his own veins.

Nick Stokes was liberated.

Side by side, sharing in this glory. In this rush... His partner helmed the command by the sway of his body weight, thermal lifts pushing them upwards.

"You're like a junkie," he yelled through pockets of air, the heat furnishing their drive.

Even held by back by a chin strap, no way to hide that glee. "Yep!" Nick yelled.

"It's a drug, Man!" Warrick shouted, hooting and hollering.

Nick's laugh was muffled by his helmet, but he heard it.

"It's better than sex!" Nick screamed back, and by the giddy tone he meant every bit of it.

"Don't know 'bout that," he mumbled, but when they leaned waaaay to the right, like a tilt on a roller coaster, so close to death, and wrapped in abandonment, then Warrick had second thoughts.

They soared for nearly two hours, each lost in mind and clouds. Canvassing canyons, experiencing living breathing nature.

The man who obsessed over birds had learned to sprout wings and become one. This was it-the Zen moment when Nick shed his protective layers and that big old heart could run free.

Warrick risked a glance beside him, eyes hidden by his shades. He felt a sizable lump in his throat, a hitch in his chest as it dawned on him. This was a fantastic gift.

"Thank you, Nicky." His voice didn't crack, no it didn't.

Maybe... maybe part of it did. Nick turned his head, bowed- heavy with the same emotion.

Nothing was spoken until they landed.

Warrick helped load the truck, since he didn't want to risk breaking anything to do with the hang glider. It was like being re-born, because it felt like he could hear every beat of the desert, feel the sun beaming down on them and the texture of anything he touched radiated beneath the pulse humming through his skin.

Warrick hefted the last of their stuff. It was still early, though bedtime by any Graveyard shift's standard. The energy buzzing around them meant it would be night before any of them caught some shuteye.

Nick wiped at his brow and pulled off his gloves, throwing them into one of the boxes. He handed his partner a bottle of water and they gulped down every refreshing drop.

"So, where to now?"

The Texan leaned against the truck bed. "Over towards Pendergrass."

Warrick bobbed his head, "Oh, I see. So are we going to pitch a couple of tents? What, roast some marshmallows?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Nah, just you, me, and a couple of fishing poles. Oh- and a nice modern cabin, complete with A/C."

He chuckled. "Here I thought you were goin' totally nature on me."

Nick moseyed over, that cowboy part of him bleeding through in his gait. His expression grew more serious, though this time he looked right at him when he spoke. "Just wanted... ya know. To get away, more out in the open." Nick chewed on his bottom lip. "Flyin' n' fishin' seemed... they were things I had thought about, when I was so alone."

Nick was making a beeline for his door, but Warrick snagged his shoulder and forced him to turn around. His partner's eyes had rewound three hundred and sixty five days.

"Hey, Man. No one says it's totally over, but it's all about one foot forward. Always going. Today, this morning." Warrick gazed back over the canyon, "Damn beautiful." Warrick grabbed his friend by both shoulders shaking him a little, grounding him in the here and now.

"You didn't have to bring me along, but Nick..." Warrick shook his head, brain scrambling for something words couldn't describe.

Instead he just gripped him in a fierce hug, one that Nick weakly returned at first, then getting over his embarrassment, nearly crushed him back. The smaller man's head buried into his shoulder, a thicker voice struggling for words.

"Warrick, I mean... Damn. Thanks for coming with me."

He patted him on the back. "You know it. Always gonna be there."

Nick cleared his throat and they both ducked away, laughing a little.

After a couple minutes his partner motioned at the truck with his head. "You ready to hit the road?"

Warrick took one last look at the skies they had for a brief time shared. "Yeah."

Nick jerked open the door throwing out one last comment before getting in the seat. "And what's the matter with roasting marshmallows? You have somethin' against s'mores?"

Warrick snorted under his breath, his partner giving him a cheeky grin, laughing as he got situated.

"Only if you don't burn them like you did those burgers from last month." Warrick rounded the SUV wiping at his face in joy for once.

One year ago it had been a race against the clock. Now they had all weekend without watches, and were in no rush to do anything at all.


End file.
